11 Jul 2009, Posted by jay rusovich , 0 Comments
Worshipping Princess.
Self-love and inspiration is worth more than a thousand bent gold spoons! John F. Murray
Women often fantasize about being worshiped and adored by some imaginary Prince they read about in a fairy tale. But unlike Santa Claus and the Tooth fairy, alleviating this one requires prescription medication, like Haldol, for example.
Nonetheless, every once in a while a woman will report meeting a man who appears to fit this fantasy profile. He’s usually had an incestuous experience with his mother and now unconsciously relives the fantasy through a surrogate in the form of a pathological narcissist, who doesn’t fully grasp her actual role in his life because it’s not about his life. It’s about what he brings to her life to make it even grander than she thinks everyone else imagines it to be.
Note: You have to keep this straight when dealing with these people, including the meds, because if you’re not careful they’ll grab the Oxycotin, instead, to keep the fantasy strung out.
Put another way, she has to find someone damaged enough to justify the cost of being in her presence for more than 20 minutes without a cigarette break.
Most men I know have lives outside of the women they date, which is common in families where nurturing is shared rather than stolen.
Anyway, I was at a fundraiser the other night when this brunette decided to bless all of us with a surprise appearance after spending an evening in the Orion Nebula.
Her haircut was an asymmetrical black-on-black over dye, last seen on the Star Trek movie, The Wrath of Khan.
And I could swear there was a kind of luminescence hanging in the air around her head that looked like digital photographs of Holy Mary sightings over in Italy…and sometimes, Detroit.
She was accompanied by an invisible man who gave the impression of a quiet parasite on the bark of a cypress tree.
He stayed put.
He kept his eyes and ears to himself.
He didn’t wander.
He didn’t move or speak without intuiting permission.
His clothing was of subtle earth tones and unobtrusive.
This is what I mean by invisible, because by comparison, he was.
She was aware of other men, but refused to acknowledge them.
She would not interact with anyone she didn’t already know.
She came and went like the wind, as though it was natural for her to periodically mingle with life forms she herself created before disappearing back into some wormhole without a second thought.
But this creature is on a death march, because there is no wormhole other than the one she’s trapped in when she’s not on the Haldol.
The whole thing is a charade that’ll end up as a footnote in some psychiatric manual.
This is because two people are always and forever two separate and distinct people, not one thing without a padlock…no matter what star system you happen to be in.
